Revelations
by rhitmcshanm
Summary: HGSS story. Secrets will come out to the light.... ch 1: Bob Snape ending edited ch 2: Lemmy Granger brand new!
1. Chapter 1: Bob Snape

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K Rowling and other corporate entities. I am making no money off the web-publication of this story. Though, I do hope to garner some fame.

Author: rhitmcshanm

Rating: R

Summary: HG/SS story. Secrets are revealed.

Title: Bob Snape

A/N: This story has been reposted with the 'ending' edited to provide a lead-in to the second chapter. The main part of the story remains unchanged. This idea just jumped out at me and said "Rah!" and I said, "Shoo!" but it said, "Grr-Rah!" and so I had to write it down.

***

Bob Snape sat on a stone bench in his family's lusciously verdant garden, the hot summer sun beating down on his black hair. In his hand, he clutched the letter that had just arrived by owl post.

_Dear Mr. Bob Snape_, the letter said. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed…_

His parents would be proud. Bob was a year younger than most wizards were when they went to wizarding school but he was far more advanced than some wizards three and four years older.

It wasn't surprising though, considering the family he came from. Though his mother had been Muggle born, she had been the top of her class, all her classes, both at Hogwarts and at the university she attended after. His father too was a magnificent wizard—he had even taught for a time, and he came from a long line of the most powerful wizards of the age. Through his father, Bob was related to half a dozen of the oldest wizarding families. He had grown up in the world of magic and power, and he had been a quick study.

His eyes read the letter again, but this time some of his delight was somewhat diminished. His eyes kept catching on the first line. _ Bob Snape_. With a growl, low in his throat, Bob considered that. There were many things Bob was, powerful, intelligent, ambitious, and there were many things he was not. Chief among them was a _Bob_.

He hated his name. He didn't know what his parents had been thinking—or even if they _had_ been thinking—when they named him. Bob. As a member of a proud family line, he thought he deserved a more…magestic name. Something that conjured power, or influence, or even fear. Well, perhaps he didn't need people to fear him, but he certainly didn't need them to pity or laugh at him. And with a name like Bob… 

Bob did not have many friends. He liked to be alone more than he liked the company of others. He was somehow always afraid they would find out he was not a 'Bob' and ridicule him. And every time someone other than his parents called him Bob, he felt the throb of rage deep in his chest. He despised people; he could do so much better without…he unconsciously clenched his fist, crumpling the letter in the process.

With a start, he came out of his reverie and gently smoothed the wrinkles out of the parchment. There had to be something he could do about his name. He would just have to apply his intelligent and pliable mind to the problem.

**

A few days later, not much had changed. As he suspected, his parents had been delighted at his acceptance into their alma matter. His mother of course hoped he would be sorted into her old house, while his father held the desire that Bob end up in his. Bob snorted and thought, _With a name like "Bob," I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff_. Shuddering at the hideous thought, Bob again turned his attention to his problems. There simply _had_ to be a way to change his name. _Robert? Rob?_ He considered. _No…Bert?_ Again a shudder. There was nothing he could do with his given name. It was hoplessly plain. Deciding that he would just have to start fresh, Bob went to the house's library to begin his research. He had two goals. First, he had to find a name worthy of him. Then, he had to find a spell that would change his name to it irrevocably. He never wanted to be Bob again.

**

The research was not going well on either front. None of the books of spells that he found mentioned anything about altering a name. And his search for the perfect name was going nowhere. He had tried some of the popular names of the time but to no avail _James Snape? Andrew Snape? Peter Snape? _ Nothing seemed to fit. He tried ancient literature, even Muggle literature. Bob knew he had the heart of a romantic—though he would never show it—but he felt that even he could not live down Romeo Snape. Michaelangelo Snape conjured of images of naked wizards on clouds, arms outstretched, and Confucious Snape just didn't work. He sighed, much discouraged. In his ten years of life, he had never come across a problem that defeated him so thoroughly. It was extremely frustrating. 

The days passed with no resolution to his problems and the time to leave for Hogwarts rapidly approached. Bob knew he had to figure out a solution before school started. There was no way he was going to face his new classmates—most of whom would be a year older—with a name like Bob. He simply would not do it.

His parents took him to Diagon Alley to purchase his school supplies a few days later. Though they had been to the magical bazaar before, this time was different. The bustling street had a new quality that Bob found exciting even through his name-finding dilemma; this was his world now--he was joining the ranks of real wizards soon. And he was determined to join it as someone other than Bob. As for his parents, his mother displayed an unusual amount of emotion as she gushed about her son growing up and becoming a wizard. She practically danced as she fondly recalled the first time she had come to Diagon Alley for school supplies—a Muggle-born with little understanding of the magical world, she had found it both exciting and nerve wracking. And she seemed determined to relive every emotion right there on the cobblestone street. His father just smiled tolerantly of his wife's antics and gave his son a reassuring smile. Bob loved his parents, he really did. But sometimes he could not figure them out.

After getting school robes measured and cut to his size, purchasing an owl to carry his letters, selecting the wand perfect for him, and buying ingredients for potions classes, all that was left was to get his school books. He and his family entered Flourish and Blotts, and he could see his parents' eyes light up. They looked—and acted—like children did on Christmas morning. Besides him and each other, the one thing his parents loved most in the world was books. They hurryidly helped him get the ones he would need for classes and then, murmuring absent-minded apologies, disappeared among the rows and rows of tomes.

Bob shrugged, knowing they would come out eventually and decided to make the most of his time. He wandered down the aisles, seeking the book that would help him. Running his fingers along the bindings, he stopped when he came to one entitled _What's in a Name?_ Realizing that this book might be the one, he excitedly pulled it off the shelf and began paging through it.

_What's in a name?_ he read. _Rather more than most believe. A name is a numerical equation represented by letters that defines who and what we are and will become. A name has inherent power, and it is a power not to be treated lightly. Possessing the 'true name' of another witch or wizard allows you some measure of power over them. Different names have different levels of power and it is the hope that this book will clarify the subject for you._

Bob's breath became shallow. This book was exactly what he was looking for. If it didn't help him with a spell, it would certainly help him find a more appropriate name. He returned his attention to the book.

More on what a name is. A name is identification. Classification. Through names, humans—magical and muggle alike—create an impression about one's personality. For many years, nomenclature scientists have postulated that a person becomes their name and not the other way around. A person's identity stems, not only from the sum of their experiences, but from their name. A name is a distinct power. The intonation used when saying a name can convey anger, love, respect, derision, and even passion. A name is a powerful weapon, but it is also a powerful tool. The study of names is a complex, complicated science and must caution is needed when defining the meanings behind the symbols that identify us.

I will now begin the discussion about the arcane powers associated with a name. If you possess one of the following: Percy, Jen, Ralph, Jane, Joe, Gomer, Yin, Quinn, Sara, Ann, or Bob please turn to page 1033. Everyone else, continue reading.

Bob furrowed his eyebrows as he flipped to the recommended page.

_Congratulations!_ The page began in large letters. Puzzled, Bob continued to read. _Or rather, anti-congratulations. If you are on this page, you are the unfortunate owner of an extremely weak name. This name has unfortunately predetermined you to a life of mediocrity. Others will surpass you in both knowledge and personality, and due to your name, you will never be able to catch up. Now, now, don't get too discouraged. Some people are meant for a life of mediocrity. What would the world be like if we were all Julius' and Elizabeths'? Why it would be downright boring! Somebody has to be on the low end of the food chain, and your name has dictated that it is to be you!_

Bob growled in his throat, ready to throw the book away. He had read it looking for a solution, not insults. Curiosity got the better of him in the end, and he started reading again.

If, however, a life of menial servitude does not appeal to you, there are several remedies.

_You can change the spelling of your name. _ _You can go by a 'nickname' _ _You can use your middle name _ _You can change your name _

_Now, all of these options have their pros and cons. Let us begin. _

_Option One. Changing the spelling of the name often adds power. Changing Sara to Sarah nearly triples the inherent power in the name. Jayne is a more powerful derivative of Jane. This is a good option for those who are not adept in spells or who wish to keep their current name and just increase the power of it. The downside of this option is that, at heart, a Sarah will always still be a Sarah—just with more power. And it does not work with all names. _

_Option Two. A nickname. A nickname is usually a contraction of one's given name. In the case of names that start out powerful, using a nickname normally decreases the energy it contains. A Frederick who goes by Freddie or a Susanna who goes by Sue loses power. When one has a name that has very little power to begin with, a nickname can often add power. Ralphie is stronger than Ralph; Annie is better than Ann. This option is good for those who's given names form into a nickname easily. One type of nickname to _never_ use is a 'familiar nickname'. Even if you love your steak, never, never allow your friends to call you T-Bone. The same goes for nicknames like: Baby-Face, Radar, Gonzo, and Princess. A nickname such as these—defined as one given by peers rather than parental units or oneself—gives power to those who bestow it upon you and actually takes power away from you. No matter how 'macho' or powerful the nickname appears to be, the fact that others have named you, removes your power. _

_Option Three. Use a middle name. Most wiches and wizards follow the practice of giving their offspring at least one (if not more) middle names. These names are almost certain to be more powerful than your given name. Consider going by one of them._

Bob considered this option. His full name was Robert Renier Amadeus Snape. Renier…no. He didn't think he was a Renier. And he knew he wasn't an Amadeus. He knew the name meant 'beloved of God' and he felt that if he were truly beloved his parents wouldn't have named him Bob in the first place. On to the next option, he thought gloomily. 

_Option Four. Changing one's name. This option is the most difficult to achieve, but is also the most certain to gaurentee more power. A witch or wizard chooses a name, chants a difficult spell, and the name becomes their own irrevocably. Chose this option carefully as a name can be changed once, but never again. The name you pick will become molded to your personality. Some of the weakness that was bestowed on you by your original name will remain, but it will be blended into the new name, creating a completely new personality. Care is necessary when choosing the new name as several effects can combine with unpleasant results. The most notorious example of this is the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. The Dark Wizard was born with the name Norm—a name that denotes fastidiousness and orderliness. When mixed with the characteristics of the name Grindelwald, the resulting personality was an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist with little morality and even less social conscious. Take care that this does not happen to you. If you are intent on this course of action, turn to page 1182 for a list of acceptable names. The spell required to complete the name switch can be found on page 2332. Again, caution is advised when performing this spell._

Bob stood there for a moment trying to decide which to do first. Before he could make a decision, his parents reappeared, arms loaded with books. It wasn't difficult for Bob to add the name book to their pile, and he knew he could continue his research at home.

** 

Bob realized, on the trip back to their house, that he did not have much in the way of patience. It was all he could do to keep from grabbing his book. He knew he couldn't do this; he didn't want his parents to know what he was up to. And so, it was with great impatience that Bob waited until he could sneak off to his room with the book. He flipped back to the page he was reading and decided the best thing to do would be to look for a name before he worried about the spell. Without a name, the spell would be pointless. 

Flipping to page 1182, he ran his finger down the list of names. As the digit touched each one, an explanation of the characteristics of the name appeared in a column to the left. His hand stopped on one that seemed particularly promising and read: 

_…gives you a very individual, reserved, serious nature. You stick stubbornly to your ideas or decisions, in spite of any appeals or advice; you are not willing to accept a compromise. You prefer to be alone with your own thoughts, rather than in the company of others. This name restricts spontaneity in association and the fluency of your verbal expression. When you are required to express yourself in personal matters requiring finesse and diplomacy, you feel awkward and embarrassed. Although you realize perfectly well what is expected of you, you are unable to find the right words, and hence you end up saying something inappropriate in a candid way. You can express your deeper thoughts and feelings best through writing. Your friendships and personal associations are rather restricted, being limited to those of a similar nature who can understand and accept your rather straightforward yet reserved manner. You find satisfaction in being outdoors or in getting out into nature, or in dealing with the products of the earth. There is originality and depth of thought contained in this name, particularly along practical and mathematical lines._

That seems promising, Bob thought. He tried the name out. He looked at himself in the mirror and said the new name. He didn't really like nature and belittling people was one of his favorite pastimes. The rest was rather close. His face screwed up as he decided that it wasn't quite right. Close, but not quite right. He returned to the search. 

_…made you versatile and creative. There is hardly anything you cannot do if you put your mind to it, but a driving urge leads you to one experience after another, seldom finishing what you start. You cannot find peace of mind or lasting contentment in anything you do. As soon as a challenge is met, boredom sets in, and you yearn for another experience. This restlessness makes it difficult for you to assume responsibility and to establish stable, progressive conditions in your life. You could do well in sales work or in meeting the public where quickness of mind and expression are all important. You have many friends, but lose interest in people very quickly. Your intense mental activity spoils system and concentration, and plays havoc with relaxation and sleep. Out of your quick thinking has been borne hasty speech. Acting on impulse instead of with forethought has led to many disappointments and bitter experiences._

With a snort, Bob thought to himself, not hardly! He was neither impulsive nor restless. He was mildly creative, but he always finished what he started. That name would never work. Though, it did sound nice with his surname. With a shrug, Bob abandoned the name and continued his perusal.

_…indicates you are a diligent and persevering worker who enjoys a routine occupation where you can do a job well and finish what you start. You like to work at your own speed, without pressure, as you prefer to take your time to work step by step in your own way. You could become frustrated and thwarted in your efforts if too many changes or disruptions occur. Also, you do not appreciate people enforcing new methods or ideas on you, as you like to examine all the details before making changes. It is difficult for you to be spontaneous and affectionate with those close to you, as suitable words and actions do not come to mind quickly. In association your tendency to state your mind simply and clearly, without diplomacy or finesse, can lead to awkwardness or embarrassment._

Almost like a mechanical click, Bob knew that this was the name he needed. The step-by-step methodology, the solitude of it, the emotionlessness of it. That was exactly what he needed. With renewed vigor, he said the name aloud. It was perfect. It rolled off the tongue; it was almost poetic. He tried different tones saying it. It was an amazing name. It could inspire fear or devotion or passion with just a little inflection.

Eyes aglow, Bob turned to the page that gave the incantation that would make this name his. He read over the spell, ignoring the warning (_Results of spell irreversible. Use at own risk!)_ at the top of the page. It _was_ a difficult spell, but Bob was determined. Picking up his brand new wand and holding it in the position recommended by the book, he began to chant. The incantation had to be repeated one time for every single person who knew him and knew his name. Those who had only heard of him didn't matter. The difficulty lay in remembering exactly how many people he had ever met—for if he forgot even one, the spell would not work, and he could not try it again. And if he said one too many, the spell would cause all of nature to reject his name—both the new one and the old one. He would be nameless forever.

But Bob was not a methodical person for nothing. He recalled every family gathering, every outing to a store, every chance brushing with a stranger. His amazing memory added to the fact that he was only ten years old and hadn't done all that much traveling, made his task easier.

Two hundred and twelve repetitions later, Bob Snape had a new name. He hurried over to his desk, where his Hogwarts acceptance letter rested and quickly opened it again. A smile broke over his face as he read the newly changed line, _Dear Mr. Severus Snape…_

** 

Severus Snape, Hogwart's Pre-eminent Potions Master, finished his story and waited for his wife's reaction. The infernal woman had something to say about everything—and it was one of the many things he loved about her. He was therefore surprised to be met with silence. Lots of silence. Confused, he looked down at the woman cradled in his arms, trying to discern why she hadn't said anything. Her eyes were very bright and for a moment he thought she was on the verge of crying. He was soon disabused of this notion when her shoulders and soon her entire body began shaking from suppressed laughter. He growled, and his lips curled up into a sneer. "It isn't funny," he managed to get out through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Hermione Snape managed to choke out between paroxysms. "It _isn't_ funny. And yet…it is. Your parents named you Bob?" The laugher again stole her ability to talk clearly. If her husband had been given to lying, she would just have assumed that it was a story, concocted for her amusement. As it was, she knew he was deadly serious about it all.

"Yes," Severus ground out. He had changed much over the years, but he still had very little tolerance for people laughing at him. "When I think of all the problems in life I could have avoided if they had just been sensible about naming me..."

Hermione muffled her guffaws long enough for her mind to start working again. "Weren't they unhappy that you changed the name they gave you?" his wife managed to say, valiantly attempting to stop her mirth.

"No," Severus said. "One of the effects of the spell was that no one would have any memory of your previous name. As far as they were concerned, I had been born Severus Snape. I am the only one who knows otherwise. And now you do too." 

Hermione looked at her husband, trying with all her Gryffindor might to picture him as a Bob. The mere thought brought the laughter back, in twofold strength. She could see that he was angry with what he thought was her amusement at his expense, but she couldn't help herself. It was just too hilarious to picture dignified Potions Master—the man who had inspired fear in her as a student, who had stimulated love in her as an adult, and who was the father of her baby—as a child named Bob.

Severus started to draw away from her but was stopped when Hermione quickly placed a hand on his arm. She pulled his hand to her gently swelling abdomen and said, "I guess we'll have to take care in naming our child, won't we…" her eyes glinted mischeviously, "…Bob?" 

Severus pounced on her and she shrieked in mock fear. He stared intently into her eyes and said in a low voice, "Say my name." 

"Bob," Hermione giggled, still teasing him.

He leaned closer and began to nibble on her ear. "Say my name," his voice was a deep, silky rumble that Hermione felt more than heard. It vibrated the bones in her ear and it was all she could do to focus on his hand tracing circles on her stomach while his teeth worried her earlobe.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the passion rise, but said nothing. He growled again, deep in his throat, indicating that he would not ask again. As his hand found her breast, she managed to gasp out, "Severus…" It was more of a sigh than a statement, and her throaty voice seemed to caress the name even as her husband caressed her.

He pulled away, and she moaned at the loss of contact. She quieted down when she saw how he was looking at her; his eyes full of an emotion that even a few months ago, he would have been unable to express so easily. Her heart lurched as she realized yet again just how much this man meant to her.

"I love you…Severus," she whispered and was delighted to see the effect those four words had on him. His dark eyes practically glowed with love. And passion.

He leaned back over her and began kissing his way from her jaw, down her throat…Hermione moaned in anticipatory delight. And then he stopped. Hermione's half-lidded eyes flew open to see her husband regarding her. "What's wrong?" she asked after several moments of silently looking at him.

"Well, my dear," he said, allowing a finger to wander across her abdomen, caressing and teasing, "it seems I have fulfilled my part of our bargain. It is your turn." 

Hermione shook her head and said, "Oh, Severus, you don't want to hear any of my deep, dark secrets…" 

With a small smile, Severus replied, "Love, our bargain was that we each would tell one secret to the other. Are you backing out on the deal? Not very Gryffindor-ish," he tisked, letting his hand flick lower.

The phantom caresses of his hand were driving her wild and she had to work to put a coherent thought together. "All right, all right," she said, "but you have to stop that—much as I hate to say it—or else you won't get a very good story out of me…" 

"But I was having so much fun!" Severus said, his normally deep silky voice assuming a mock petulant tone as he delicately kissed her bellybutton. Hermione moaned and pressed herself toward his lips. "But," he said, sitting up, breaking contact with her, "in the interests of good story telling, I will make the sacrifice." 

"Oh, you…!" Hermione said, both annoyed with his teasing and amazed at how easily he could love her. "All right…I'll finish the bargain. Then you finish what you were doing!" 

Severus smiled and gathered her into his arms, waiting to hear what secret his wife still had.

TBC...

A/N:

This is the most un-serious thing I have ever written (to be published that is) and I would really like some feedback on it. This is unexplored territory for little rhitmcshanm-es and guidance would be a happy-dappy thing. And yes, I am (rather lightly) asserting that all of Severus' troubles in later life stemmed from the fact that he was named Bob. He became a Death Eater because no one named Bob would become a Death Eater. He was cruel and successful because if Bob were truly his name, he could have been neither. So his whole existence was spent proving that he was not in any way, shape, or form, a Bob.

Next chapter: Lemmy Granger. Hermione reveals her deep dark secret.

Shameless self promotion: Don't forget to go read every other story I have ever written. ::smile:: 

Like all my stories, this one is dedicated to my godfather, whose spirit is my muse.

All right, I took some liberties with the properties of certain names. Information was gotten at http://www.kabalarians.com/gkh/your.htm Names used in Severus'/Bob's search were (in order) Harry, Sirius, Severus. The stuff for Severus's name is correct, the stuff for Bob (on the site) is totally different than what I said it was. I really think the site doesn't like to tell someone they have a wussy name. Not that I think Bob is a wussy name. I just needed something common and totally un-Severus. For those whose names I mentioned in the story, nothing against your name really.


	2. Chapter 2: Lemmy Granger

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters do not belong to me. I am quite all right with this because just think of the pressure J.K. is under to write a story that appeals to everyone and lives up to the hype around it. I am betting I sleep better at night than she does.

Author: rhitmcshanm

Rating: R

Summary: Chapter 2 of Relevations. Hermione shares her big secret with her husband.

Title: Lemmy Granger

Seventh year had hardly begun, and already Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Top Student, and Witch Extraordinaire was bored. Her unexciting summer had been spent curled up in a comfortable chair, nose buried in her books, and as a result, she was faced with an unexciting school year spent far ahead in all of her classes. And while Hermione _liked_ to study and read, a steady diet of both was growing tedious.

She wasn't in a serious relationship—in fact, she wasn't in any kind of relationship of any type. And had no prospects for any, in any case. Not that she needed a boyfriend to flitter her time away with. She sighed and shut the book in front of her. Her restless eyes roamed the library looking for inspiration, _any_ inspiration, on what to do with all her extra hours. She had read every book in the Arithmancy section and had found the books in the History of Magic section to be far more interesting than Professor Binns. Her eyes stopped on the Herbology section—one she hadn't delved into very thoroughly, and like clockwork, her mind began to tick. Herbology—plants—animals—animagus! _I could learn to be an animagus! Brilliant!_ She thought excitedly.

Hermione hurried over to the section of the library where the books on animagi were kept. She had looked the section over during her second year but needed some refreshing. Finding the one she wanted, she pulled it out and took it over to her table, doing her best to appear inconspicuous. She didn't want anyone to know what she was doing.

After reading the first chapter of the book, Hermione sat back and thought hard. The first two hundred pages of the book were filled with warnings and horror stories about those who had failed. Incidents included those that had only managed a halfway transformation and were forced to live out the rest of their lives as half-human/half-animal freaks. Most retired to homes deep in isolation though several found lucrative careers in the circus industry. Other horror stories were about those who got stuck in the animal state and had to spend their lifespan as someone's pet.

She understood now just how difficult it was to become an animagi. A witch needed to have power, self-discipline, and desire. Hermione knew she had enough power to accomplish her goal, and years of studying had taught her self-discipline. But she was afraid she didn't have enough desire to achieve the transformation.

Hermione thought about the people she knew were animagi. Rita Skeeter, the beetle. Hermione thought about the requirements and ticked off in her mind how Rita had managed. _Yes, the woman has power—misused, but viable. She must have _some_ self-discipline—just not in relation to her work and creating lies she feels will sell. And as for desire…there is no better way to spy on a person than the one she found._ The other animagi she knew also fit the bill. Sirius was powerful, not very disciplined—but since the transformation had been for his friends, he probably had pulled himself together, and he had the need to help his friend. The same went for James Potter and that horrible rat Peter Pettigrew.

With a shrug, Hermione decided to put the desire requirement away until she was actually ready to try the transformation. Perhaps after studying the subject for a few months, she would have the need to have it work so her time was not a waste. Satisfied with her solution, she continued to read the book. The year might not be as tedious as she had first thought.

**

Three months later, Hermione sat on the floor of her room in front of her mirror. This night was the night. All the reading, all the preparation, she had done on becoming an animagus would pay off—or not—tonight. To her surprise, she had discovered that a person could not choose their form--it was chosen by personality. It made sense when she thought about that in relationship to those animagi that she knew. Sirius was a big dog of a person; McGonagall's quiet and curious manner was definitely that of a feline, and Rita Skeeter was an insect if she had ever met one. Hermione tried to get an idea of what her form would be but was unable to come to a definite conclusion. She was curious like a cat, but did not have the self-centered personality of a cat. She was friendly like a dog, but a dog did things that didn't bear thinking about. With a sigh, she realized she would just have to take her chances.

Closing her eyes and beginning the deep concentration exercises, Hermione readied herself for the change. The months of study had definitely instilled her with the desire to see this challenge through. Taking a deep calming breath, she licked her lips and prepared to begin. She felt around, deep inside herself and drew upon the pool of magic she found there. The power tingled across all of her nerves in an oddly sensual way, and she could feel her body become liquid, flowing, altering its form. She kept her concentration firmly on the magic she was using, determined to not get stuck halfway. The tingling increased, and her breath caught in her throat as a sensation close to an orgasm built in her entire body. It grew and expanded until she was sure she could take no more of the painful pleasure. Finally, in an explosion of invisible light, the sensations stopped. _If that is what McGonagall feels every time she transforms…_Hermione thought, reeling from the stimulation. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and her mind was able to function again. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror to see her new form.

She almost passed out from the shock.

_No_, she thought frantically, _it _can't_ be! It bloody well can't be!_ Her mind was a chaotic mess as she tried to take in what had happened to her. She tried to shout out her denial, but all the form in the mirror did was squeak in terror. Shaking her head, she was dismayed to see the image do the same. It really was true. Realizing that she could not—_could not_—stay in her current form, she gathered the tatters of her self-control and quickly changed back into her normal body. She gasped for breath, trying with all her might to come to terms with her new form. There had to have been some mistake; she had bungled some part of the transformation. That was the explanation. It _had_ to be. There was no way that Hermione Granger was going to keep _that_ alternate form!

_McGonagall!_ Her frantic, panicked mind latched onto the one person in the school who might be able to provide some direction. She glanced at the timepiece, and deciding that it wasn't _too_ late, ran out of her room toward the House Head's. 

As she flew down the halls, several of the paintings called out to her, reminding her that school rules frowned upon running in the hallways. She paid them no mind. She brushed by Peeves—half pushing him into a wall, barely noticing that the irate poltergeist was throwing insults after her rapidly disappearing figure. She only slowed down when she was a few meters from McGonagall's door. Taking a deep, calming breath and smoothing down her disheveled hair, she knocked sedately on the door.

"Come in!" a faint voice called from the room.

Hermione pushed the heavy wood door open and walked into her professor's private quarters. Minerva McGonogall sat in a comfortable-looking chair by the fire, and though it was likely very near her bedtime, she looked no different than she did at seven in the morning or at eight in the evening. Robes immaculate, not a hair out of place, and a solemn expression on her face. "Miss Granger," the older woman said, putting her book down, "what can I do for you?" 

"I…that is...I just have some questions," Hermione replied, unsure how to begin.

Minerva waved her to a seat and said, "Please sit down. Would you like some tea?" Hermione took the proffered chair and refused the tea with a polite shake of her head, but still didn't say anything. "Now, what is on your mind this late in the evening?" The Head of Gryffindor House was never one to dance around a subject.

"I was wondering…rather, I was thinking about becoming an animagus," Hermione decided that a little deception was in order. No need to mention that she _already_ was one. "And I have read some of the books on the subject, but I was…wanting a more personal view." 

Minerva's face broke into a rare smile. It was no real secret that Hermione Granger was one of her favorite students, and the fact that the young woman seemed to want to follow in her footsteps...it made her all the more endearing. "Ask anything you like, dear," Minerva said, taking a sip of her tea.

"Well…I suppose…why did you want to become an animagi?" 

"That is easy to answer," Minerva said. "I loved Transfiguration, and animagism is another form of the subject. Transfiguration of the self." 

Hermione nodded, having expected this answer. Now for the important question. But make it seem not-so-important. She licked her lips and asked, "The form you take…is it set in stone? I mean, once you have transformed once, can you ever become a different animal?" 

"No, my dear," Minerva said solemnly. "Which, I suppose is why most do not attempt the transformation until they are old enough to have their personality set. Just think if one transformed when one was a callous youth and was stuck with that form as a serious adult. No, once a form is assumed it is quite permanent." She fell silent, quietly contemplating what she had just said.

Hermione nodded sadly and stood up saying, "Well, I have kept you long enough, Professor. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me; you have given me much to think about." 

It was a quiet, dejected Hermione that made her way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Once in the privacy of her room, she sat down on her bed and pulled Crookshanks into her arms. For once in her life, Hermione Granger, the girl with all the answers, was at a loss at what to do. She was an animagus with a completely useless form. She would never, never live down the embarrassment if she entered her name and form in the registered lists. And her form would always be the one she had faced in the mirror not an hour ago. Her distinguishing characteristic was all too obvious to anyone who looked. Not only could the form get her killed, it could land her in far worse situations and places than she had ever been in. Some time later, her contemplations done, Hermione decided that never again would she transform into her animagus form.

Her resolve lasted all of two days. Then the boredom set in again. Reluctantly, she began the exercises and transformed again. The sensations were quicker and muted this time to her relief. She wanted her mind on what she was doing and not humming with arousal. Slowly, she examined her new body, centimeter by centimeter. It wasn't so terrible, really, when she considered it logically. She might, with time, get used to the form. And despite the obvious drawbacks it had, it did have the bonus of being nearly invisible to the witches and wizards who ran the school. She would be able to explore passages and rooms that Harry and Ron never dreamed existed. Again she contemplated her new image. With a nod of her head, she resolved to make the most of what fate had thrown her way.

She spent whatever free time she had over the next few weeks learning the limitations and the extents of her new body. She was small enough to fit into most places, yet big enough not to be stepped on. She practiced until the mannerisms that were a part of the form became almost instinctual. She had to relearn how to walk and move properly while in the form, but soon, she was satisfied that she would be able to pass inspection. No one would be able to tell by looking at her that she was a witch in a different body. And so, she began to explore the castle at night.

**

"Who's there?" a voice called out of the darkness in the hallway.

Hermione froze. She easily recognized the voice and realized that if she were found nosing around in the dungeons late at night, nothing would save her from Snape's wrath. Even the Head Girl was subject to school discipline when wandering the halls at two in the morning.

She panicked. She knew he hadn't seen her clearly—the hall had almost no light and she had huddled deep in the shadows the moment he spoke. He must have heard her foot slip on the stone step. Quickly, seeing no other course of action, she transformed into her animagus form.

"I said, who is there?" Snape's voice was heavy with anger. 

Cautiously, Hermione stepped out of the shadows. The lack of recognition on his face caused some of the tension to leave her shoulders. She had succeeded in her first trial. There were possibilities inherent in the form. She just had to learn how to use it to the best of her ability. Wiggling her pointy green ears and shuffling her feet in her over-sized socks, she squeaked, "I…I is Lemmy, sir. Is you wanting for something?" 

**

"Lemmy!" Severus Snape exclaimed as his wife finished her tale. "You…you are Lemmy?" he choked out. "The little…bushy haired…house elf that I…but…" He realized he should have put two and two together. No other house elf had hair quite like Lemmy did—in fact, most didn't have more than six hairs.

Hermione smiled slightly, knowing how flummoxed her husband was. He had been relying on the House Elf Lemmy for some time. Lemmy had always been there with a freshly laundered robe, a glass of alcohol, or a heated meal. Or just a listening ear.

Severus was quiet for a moment, pondering. Idly, he ran his finger up and down Hermione's arm while he thought. "Is that how _you_ knew that I always like my brandy in that crystal decanter?" he finally asked. "And," his voice grew quieter, "how after passing out from pain upon returning from a Dark Revel, I would find myself in bed, wounds tended to?" 

His wife nodded slowly and said, "You would never ask for help from anyone—especially a bossy, know-it-all, former Gryffindor. You had made self-reliability an art. But if I just…happened…to show up…" She shrugged. "House elves are invisible here—no one asks questions of them." 

"And…" his voice was uncharacteristically hushed, "how the Resistance knew exactly where Voldmort was hiding in Malfoy's house? You disappeared a few months before that was discovered…" His voice was carefully neutral but his eyes were accusing as he began to understand how much she had kept from him. They hadn't been together at the time, but the fact that she had done what she had done…

Hermione nodded solemnly, eyes locked in her husband's. "I was even more invisible there. They didn't even notice a new house elf. One more creature to do their work, one more to order around, one more to… abuse." She shrugged looking away, not quite able to hide the pain the memories of that dark time brought up. Severus' gentle hand on hers made her look up at him. She could see the pain in his eyes as he learned what she had done. She smiled weakly at him and said, "We all made sacrifices, Severus." 

He blinked, finally realizing the magnitude of the contribution she had made to the war effort. She never ceased to amaze him. "Thank you," he said as he gently caressed her cheek. "For everything. And thank Lemmy for me too," he added with a smile. The tender moment was broken when he began to chuckle low in his throat. Hermione suspected he was laughing at her—trying to break the tension. It worked. She was proven correct when he finally managed to get out, "How is it that your animagus form was a house elf? I thought you hated what they represent!" 

She scowled at him and muttered, "Personality." 

He delicately cocked an eyebrow and gestured her to further enlighten him. Still, after three years of marriage, he retained many of his classroom mannerisms.

Hermione sighed and said in a voice that told him exactly how much a burden explaining it to him was, "My personality. Seventh year I was still intent on helping everyone no matter the cost. I was very subservient to Harry and Ron and all my professors. Everything had to be just so. Doubtless that got translated into my form. House Elves are known for cleanliness, orderliness, and subservience." She rolled her eyes as he started to laugh again. "Though, I am proud to say that the transformation was what actually encouraged me to grow a backbone. And I don't think you should forget that!" she admonished her husband.

"How could I?" he asked. "Such a lovely backbone it is too," he breathed on her skin, but did not touch her.

She cleared her throat impatiently.

"Yes?" he asked, in his silkiest and most seductive voice.

"I believe I have completed my part of our bargain. And you have fulfilled yours," she said.

"And…?" He wasn't letting her off the hook.

"Wasn't there something you were in the middle of?" she asked, her voice pleading, eyes filled with desire.

"Mrs. Snape," Severus growled in his best 'why-am-I-forced-to-teach-these-dunderheads' voice, "Could you please say what you mean to say and stop this needless dancing around the subject? What is it that you are suggesting?"

Hermione put on her best 'innocent-as-a-Hufflepuff' look and said, "I was just going to say that I love you." His eyes darkened as she said that and sparked when she continued, "And that I really enjoying our…relationship. All aspects of it," her voice was husky as she said this. In a more normal, slightly exasperated tone, she finished, "Before the story got in the way, that is."

"Oh, were you recalling something like this?" Severus rumbled, starting to place tiny kisses along her body. She sighed in pleasure.

"Exactly like," she managed to say. She closed her eyes and smiled as she basked in the presence of her loving husband.

Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she jerked upright.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked his voice humming with concern. He sat up and turned his fearful eyes to his wife.

She looked at him, eyes bright with joy. "The baby," she whispered, "kicked me." 

His face lit up. His normally severe and uncompromising features were transformed as he reverently placed a hand on the gentle swelling of her abdomen. The baby kicked again.

Hermione knew that if she happened to have the Mirror of Eisred in front of her, and she looked into it, the scene it would show would just be a reflection of the room. She snuggled up to her husband and closed her eyes, allowing his gentle stroking of her stomach to sooth her to sleep. She was contented and completely happy and knew that somehow, Bob and Lemmy would have a wonderful life. Together.

The End

AN: I don't want anyone to think that I classify House Elves as animals. I was just trying to find the most embarrassing form possible for Hermione. Discussion on WIKTT about flamingo!Snape fueled my evil brain. Hope you enjoyed it.

Shameless self promotion: Don't forget to go read every other story I have ever written. ::smile:: 


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